


Somewhere Right Between the Eyes

by Jeevey



Series: Love in the Time of Corona [8]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Bands, Corona fic, Dreamsharing, Longing, M/M, RPF, Sibling Incest, because Gallaghers, dad Noel, present day, so sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:46:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26204410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeevey/pseuds/Jeevey
Summary: Sometimes it comes so fast it takes his breath.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Series: Love in the Time of Corona [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747696
Comments: 17
Kudos: 25





	Somewhere Right Between the Eyes

05:07 February 22nd, 2020

Noel woke to his heart like a drum, pounding hollow and metallic in his ears. Memory, fate, disaster. Three hard knocks straight to the back of his head, and the certainty that it was right here in the house. Inside his body. Disaster, memory, desire.

“Dad?” A muffled voice tight with fear in the dark.

Fuck, that was Sonny fallen out of bed again. Noel felt around for a pair of pyjama bottoms and slid them on. Sonny had night terrors so often that Noel would have been happy to sleep with trousers on, but Sara kept the bedroom at about a million degrees and it gave him a headache to sleep so hot. Instead he kept a pair nearby, and got them on blind out of habit.

Noel pushed open his bedroom door. He tried to shake off his dreams but the clench of discovery rode down the hall in his gut. The fist on the metal door, and muffled voices, and smothered sounds of desire. The roar of buried engines and diesel fuel. He padded barefoot to the next room.

Sonny called his name again as Noel entered his room. Still on the floor, poor sod, his little face silver and scared in the moonlight.

“Come on, lad,” Noel murmured. “It’s all right.” Sonny waited until Noel reached out for him, and then scrambled into his arms with the animal strength of fright. Noel stroked his hair. “Eh, there. All right now, isn’t it? Just a dream.” 

Sonny clung to Noel like a monkey; when Noel tried to ease him onto the bed he wouldn’t turn loose. That was the usual way. Noel wodged onto the bed and hoisted Sonny in beside him, kicked the duvet up with his feet and pulled it over Sonny’s skinny shoulders. Noel could see that he was awake, but barely, one eye drifting out of line as it did when he was dead sleepy. 

“Hey, there. How about you ease up, tiger? You’re gonna have me waxed for the beach in a minute,” Noel said, prying a finger between Sonny’s hand and his chest. Sonny had gripped at anything he could get when Noel picked him up, and he had a handful of tit hairs and skin in his fist. It relaxed as he spoke, and Noel drew a breath of relief.

“Dad?” Sonny said, sounding quite awake for a moment.

“Yeah?” 

But it was only a false flash. He just slid sideways into Noel’s arm and mumbled some nonsense.

“Me too, kid,” Noel told him. He tried to push Sonny away, but he squirmed until he had his face smashed up against Noel’s ribs so hard that it bent his neck backward and began to breathe the fluid whispers of a sleeping child. It looked uncomfortable but Noel made no effort to move him; all his children had done that going to sleep. Noel reckoned something about the pressure on their head must make them feel safe.

Safe. Noel felt again the hollow pound on a metal door behind his skull and pitch of adrenaline in his stomach. His hand pressed tight over bone, and stuttering breath like liquid over his skin. Discovery, disaster, fate.

Christ.

Noel settled against the headboard to wait for Sonny to go back to sleep. His room was beautiful, the palest grey-blue walls and high white woodwork soaring over the windows. It was going to be Sara’s dressing room at first, but when Sonny’s night waking got so much worse they put him in here so that Noel could get to him easily, or Sara could when he was on tour. Right now the walls shone the same color as the light on Sonny’s sleeping face. There was a knee-high table for Legos, and another one for them magnet things that he loved, and a pile of wooden swords in the corner. It was all so fucking normal. The echos in his head and the tightness in his balls on waking, those weren’t real. This room was real.

He didn’t set out to think of the past, getting drowsy there with his son beside him, a perfectly normal kid with a perfect fucking life. He never thought of it. It breathed on him sometimes in his dreams unbidden, though, or put rough hands on him in the dark. Sometimes it came so suddenly it took his breath.

It felt like Liam, pulling Noel’s t-shirt over his head in the cold passageway and Noel gone mad, letting him. Liam’s hands pressed flat on his body, sliding upward for one mad instant before they fell through the door to Noel’s cabin. The sounds they made buried under a thousand tonnes of roaring engine. The bolt slammed in the door. Noel’s back pressed against the cold steel door. Liam gone all grabby and Noel incoherent with triumph. That fucking engine, sounding like a planet on the move beneath his feet and the roar of it deep in his skull. Liam grinding and gasping without restraint. Noel’s hand clamped over his face to fucking make him shut up, the other one locked behind his skull. The realization that he’d made a mistake, because this way he could feel the rolling push of Liam’s thrusts coming right up from the bottom of the sea. His own throat raked raw from moaning like a sket even though he couldn’t hear a fucking thing, and the sudden pounding—memory, fate, disaster—of Mark Coyle on the other side, bellowing to unlock the door so he could get at his coke.

Noel shuddered. Sonny was out cold, snoring the little-boy snore that he made with his head cranked back like that. Noel slid free and pulled the covers to Sonny’s chin; he slept cold like his mother. Noel returned to the passage and shut the door. Out here was cool and quiet, just the hardwood floors like glass and the push of his hard-on against his pyjamas. Nothing to see. He drew a deep breath and reentered the room where he slept with Sara. 

Her sleeping form hardly made a bump in their giant bed. Her hair was a pool of darkness on the pillow. Here the same as everywhere, it was totally fucking normal. More than normal—the incredible spotless normal he couldn’t have even imagined at any time before it actually came to be. 

The walls were painted darker in this room because of the massive windows on two sides. They’d done it in that radiant navy blue that reminded him of something perfect, though he couldn’t think what it was. He’d picked it himself, unerringly, from a book of about a billion color samples the designer gave them. “That one,” he’d said. Sara raised her brow and made the sound that meant she was about to disagree. Noel stared her down. The designer hastily assured Sara that the color was perfect, that anything lighter would make the room far too large and bright for sleeping, and the crease between her brows grew smooth.

And it really was perfect. Noel loved everything they put in the room. There was a chair in the corner where he sometimes played guitar. Sara had an absurd stool-and-mirror thing for brushing her hair at. There was an upholstered bench by the windows, and a King Charles side table where he put his water and phone at night. 

Noel paused for a drink of water, scratching around the base of his erection without touching it. It was better not to touch the ones that came after dreaming. He turned his phone over to check the time. A hard green text notification lay across the screen Liam, awake in Paris at four am. Noel felt a moment of vertigo, saw the silver lights of Paris sliding wetly over the car as he drove away from Liam for the last time. 

_dreamed of you. you to? you were the 1 moaning to bring the fucking house down but you put your hand over my mouth n told me to shut my flap._

Fucking hell. _Fuck._ Noel stared at it for the longest time without a thought in his head, one hand moving absently over his cock.


End file.
